


No Violation of Privacy

by TheMightyChipmunk



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, pining!grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 23:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1796473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyChipmunk/pseuds/TheMightyChipmunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh my god.” Grantaire whispered, staring at Enjolras with wide eyes as he clutched the book to his chest like a shield. “Please tell me-”<br/>“I didn’t look in it.” Enjolras offered, putting his hands up as if Grantaire was a horse he needed to settle. Grantaire heaved a deep breath of relief and Enjolras eyed him oddly.<br/>“Oh thank the Lord.” Grantaire breathed.</p><p>(Or) Enjolras finds Grantaire's sketchbook and doesn't open it because privacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Violation of Privacy

**Author's Note:**

> based of a tumblr post i saw :D (http://tic-tac-bergerac.tumblr.com/post/88956885165/enjolras-finds-grantaires-sketchbook-and-respects)

_Knock, knock, knock._

“What the fuck?” Grantaire mumbled as he heard a pounding on his door that made his head ring. Instead of getting up and putting on his pajama pants and opening the door like a normal person, he just groaned and grabbed another pillow to cover his ears. The knocking persisted and Grantaire groaned loudly again, as if his petulance would somehow make the person go away. It didn’t. Grantaire rolled over and read his alarm clock; it was almost noon. Fuck the world.

“I’m coming.” Grantaire grumbled as he tugged on some pants and walked towards the door. He ran his fingers through his hopelessly unruly curls and swung open the door mid-knock, expecting Joly or ‘Chetta. They were the only people he knew who ever dared wake him up before one pm.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire said, shocked. Part of him wondered if he was still partially asleep and dreaming an apparition of the man, but, sure enough, it was Enjolras himself, perfect hair, red coat and all.

“Grantaire.” Enjolras sighed. “What took you so long?” he asked before taking a moment to take in Grantaire’s appearance. “Were you still asleep? It’s fucking noon.”

“I’m an artist.” Grantaire argued. “It’s in the contract that I don’t have to cave to the time constraints that society places on me. I can wake up whenever I very well please.” Enjolras just rolled his eyes. “What can I help you with Apollo?” Grantaire asked, puzzled as to why Enjolras was at his door. He never came to his door. He barely even talked to him outside of their arguments at meetings he started attending several months ago. Grantaire didn’t even know how Enjolras knew where he lived. Not that it wasn’t a pleasant surprise, because, well, _Enjolras._ Grantaire would give his left hand to get Enjolras to like him. Something still told him he didn’t, though. That something was probably all of Grantaire’s blaring insecurities, though, more than actual fact.

“Oh, um,” Enjolras looked to be considering something, an unreadable expression on his face as he stared right about at Grantaire’s shoulder before shaking his head and muttering under his breath as he reached into his bag, “You left this at the bar last night.” Enjolras settled on, pulling out Grantaire’s sketchbook. Grantaire gasped audibly and tugged out of Enjolras’ hands, looking pathetically suspicious. In all honesty, he hadn’t even realized he had lost it, but the thought of Enjolras finding it, flipping through it and seeing that it was filled 70% with sketches of _him_ made an awful sinking feeling settle in his stomach. The book was filled with full-body portraits of Enjolras, sketches of just his face, laughing or with a stern expression, just his hands, his silhouette, his eyes, oh god, there was even a nude or two in there. All tastefully done, of course, he would never violate Enjolras in that way but _still_ , fucking hell.

“ _Oh my god_.” Grantaire whispered, staring at Enjolras with wide eyes as he clutched the book to his chest like a shield. “Please tell me-”

“I didn’t look in it.” Enjolras offered, putting his hands up as if Grantaire was a horse he needed to settle. Grantaire heaved a deep breath of relief and Enjolras eyed him oddly.

“Oh thank the Lord.” Grantaire breathed.

“I mean, you’re always really private about it. But I must say, I was tempted.” Enjolras admitted with a nervous laugh. “But I wouldn’t violate your privacy like that.”

“Thank you.” Grantaire said with sincerity. “I really appreciate that. And you bringing it back. That’s… thank you for that too.” Enjolras smiled a little and now that his mind wasn’t shrouded by the risk of complete embarrassment, Grantaire was able to bask in how beautiful that was. Grantaire smiled back, mostly because every emotion Enjolras ever conveyed was infectious, be it happiness or fervor or indignation. Grantaire was hardly privy to his charms, even if Enjolras himself didn’t know what he was doing to him.

“Courfeyrac really wanted to open it.” Enjolras added. “He said Jehan said you’re really good.”

“Aw, well. It is my job to be decent. And you’ve seen my work, so it’s no big deal.”

“Yeah, but that’s different. That’s all computer stuff. This is… more you.” Enjolras said with a shrug. Grantaire stared at him for a moment too long, trying to figure out what that meant exactly. When Enjolras didn’t make a move to leave or anything, Grantaire opened his door and took a step back.

“Um, do you want to come in? I can make coffee or something.” Grantaire offered. He would normally feel awkward about the offer but Enjolras’ smile was bright enough to drown out any worry Grantaire may have had. Grantaire was sure that smile could heal nations.

“There’s actually something else I came over here for.” Enjolras said once they had walked into the kitchen area and Grantaire had started the coffee pot.

“Yeah, I figured. Not that I’m not happy you’re here, it’s just, we don’t hang out all too much. I know I’m not exactly your favorite person.” Grantaire said, cursing himself once it was out for sounding so self-deprecating. When he turned around towards Enjolras he was frowning at him.

“Why would you say that?” he asked as he slid on to one of the barstools lining the counter. Grantaire shrugged and was about to say something to brush it off, but Enjolras shook his head and started talking instead. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. But, um, there’s actually something else I need to apologize for so let’s not add to that pile just yet.” He sounded nervous and Grantaire couldn’t help but smile at that. He was cute when he was nervous, all fidgety and blushy, a stark change to the Enjolras he was so used to seeing at meetings, all fire and confidence.

“What?” Grantaire asked slowly, unable to stop the grin that was spreading across his face. He leaned his forearms against the counter and leaned a little closer to Enjolras who begrudgingly met his eyes but still didn’t say anything. “This isn’t about the … sketchbook, is it?” Grantaire hoped to god it wasn’t, but that would be just his luck. He probably didn’t mean to look or whatever, but accidently dropped it and it opened right to naked-Enjolras. That would be just his fucking luck.

“No, no, although I do wish you would feel comfortable enough to tell me why you flush that shade of red whenever the topic of it is brought up. Anyway, no. This is about… I may have… _plagiarized_ you.” Enjolras admitted with an ashamed groan. Grantaire furrowed his eyes and smiled in confusion.

“Huh?” Grantaire asked, making Enjolras groan.

“Okay, so I’m taking this classics class and we were reading Antigone, you know the original version and Jean Anouilh’s version, and I was… struggling with it.”

“Regular-people-struggling? Or Enjolras-struggling?” Enjolras glared at him.

“I resent that… but I guess Enjolras-struggling. I just didn’t have time to read it as thoroughly as I wanted to, what with the protest coming up and my internship picking up speed. What I was coming up with wasn’t exactly… up to par. And then a couple weeks back, I heard you by complete dumb luck, talking about this _exact_ topic with Joly, I have no fucking idea why.” Grantaire did vaguely remember that, and it was because Joly had asked. He had a weird obsession with hearing Grantaire rant about anything Greek. Something about indulging his hobbies, making sure he kept on top of his knowledge or something. “And it was after a meeting and Combeferre had been sick that week and Courfeyrac had stayed at their apartment to take care of him and so I was just sitting alone and _no_ , I was not eavesdropping with the _intent_ of stealing your ideas, but… _ugh_ they were just so good! And then, when I was trying to write my essay _all I could think about_ was what you said about Anouilh switching the roles of Antigone and Creon, making her seem less of an ethereal being and more of a child-like figure and how that was probably an attempt to subliminally bolster the Nazi regime, because it was written during world war two and, _Grantaire_. Damn. I never would have thought of that on my own and it was so good and… I may have gotten an A+ on the paper and the professor wants to keep it and use it as an example for future classes. And I am so sorry for stealing your ideas please don’t be mad at me you’re just so smart and I couldn’t help myself I’m really, really sorry.” Enjolras took a deep breath once he was done with his rant and stared at Grantaire with wide eyes in anticipation of his response. Grantaire just stared back for a long moment, with no fucking idea what to say.

“Um…” Grantaire tried. He shook his head a couple of times to try and clear it.

“Oh fuck, you’re mad aren’t you?” Enjolras looked so nervous that Grantaire couldn’t help but bark out a laugh.

“Why would I be mad? I’m happy I could help, honestly. I’m sure the A wasn’t all me, anyway. You’re the one with a wicked way with words. And I mean, you could’ve just asked me for help, if you were struggling. I used to be a classics major, you know?” Grantaire said with a laugh and Enjolras groaned again.

“I know I should’ve asked, I’m sorry-”

“Apollo!” Grantaire interjected with another laugh. Enjolras’ face was too adorable. “Stop apologizing. I’m not mad. I didn’t copyright my words and … knowledge is knowledge, I guess? I don’t get a claim over it. I’m honestly glad I could help.”

“Oh.” Enjolras said in a small voice. “Well… thank you. You really helped a lot… I couldn’t have done it without you.” Enjolras admitted with a small smile. Grantaire was inordinately pleased by the praise.

“Aw, I’m sure that isn’t true.” Grantaire felt a little awkward despite the warm feeling spreading though him so he turned around to grab a couple of mugs and pull out the cream and sugar.

“No, it _definitely_ is. You’re really smart.” Enjolras complimented and Grantaire was glad he was turned away from him because he was certain his cheeks were flushed bright red. It was quiet for a long moment after that as both of them searched for something else to say. Enjolras’ eyes settled on the sketchbook and he looked back and forth between Grantaire and the book.

“Stop.” Grantaire said fondly. Enjolras just smiled wider and even bit his lip a little. Grantaire almost groaned.

“Please?” he begged. Grantaire did groan at that.

“What do you think is in there? The secrets to life?”

“I don’t know!” Enjolras said petulantly, “I literally can’t think of anything that’s so bad you can’t show anyone.”

“It isn’t that I don’t show _anyone_ …” Grantaire argued, handing a mug to Enjolras who took it with a slightly bitter smile.

“You just don’t show _me_?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“What do I think?”

“It’s not that I don’t like you.” Grantaire insisted but Enjolras just looked at him in that sad way that said he didn’t believe him. Grantaire groaned loudly again for what felt like the ten thousandth time that morning.

“Aww, fuck it.” he muttered under his breath grabbing his sketchbook and tossing it in front of Enjolras dramatically. Enjolras stared at him with wide eyes, his lips twitching a little. “Don’t hate me.” Grantaire warned as Enjolras reached down to flip open the first page.

“Why would I hate you?” he asked, voice painfully sweet with innocence and affection. It did weird things to Grantaire’s breathing. He didn’t respond verbally, just bit his lip as Enjolras set down his coffee cup and fingered the edge of the book lightly. He looked up at Grantaire and deflated a little. “You look like I’m about to drop the guillotine on you, R.”

“What?”

“I’m not going to look if it makes you so uncomfortable!” Enjolras said and Grantaire shook his head. He might as well get it over with. If he never told him how he felt he knew he would just spend the next ten years pining and never definitively knowing if Enjolras ever just maybe might like him. He wanted an answer, to stop the heartache.

“Just look.” Grantaire persisted, standing up straighter and trying not to be as obviously scared as he felt. Enjolras looked at him with a wary expression, but nonetheless he flipped open the first page. It wasn’t too bad, actually. The first one was a sketch of a meeting, the second one he had gone to and all their friends were in it, but only the triumvirate had any color. He’d added the scarlet of Enjolras’ coat, the navy blue of Combeferre’s button-up and the almost lime green V-neck that Courf had been wearing. Everyone else was just there in silhouette. Enjolras looked up at him with one eyebrow raised.

“This is what you didn’t want me to see?”

“Keep going.” Grantaire said before downing the rest of his coffee, wishing it was something a lot stronger. Like arsenic. Enjolras was visibly confused by Grantaire’s response so he picked up the book with both hands and flipped through the pictures quicker. It didn’t take long for realization to settle over those perfect features.

“They’re all of me.” He whispered and Grantaire resisted the urge to quietly slink away. He was pretty sure he could just slip out the door without Enjolras noticing, the way he was so intently staring at the pages. But a voice in his head that sounded alarmingly like Joly told him that wouldn’t be a great idea, though, in the long run. So he stayed put.

“This isn’t _Love Actually_. They aren’t _all_ of you.” Grantaire muttered uselessly under his breath, although Enjolras’ responding chuckle made it obvious he’d heard him.

“At least 80%.”

“I’d say a maximum 70%.”

“ _Why_?” Enjolras asked after a long moment. Grantaire just stared at him as he considered what to say in response. He could always go with something snarky, sarcastic. That was his usual route, the one that steered way clear of anything associated with emotions or confronting feelings. But this was Enjolras. He couldn’t even lie to _himself_ about Enjolras.

“Well, you are exceedingly beautiful, I mean I’ve told you that enough-”

“Yeah, but so is Jehan. And Courfeyrac. And Cosette… why me?” Enjolras asked. Grantaire just looked at him and shrugged, smiling a little. He was one hundred percent sure they both knew exactly why.

“I’m pretty sure it’s exactly what you’re thinking.” Grantaire admitted after a moment. He expected awkward. Or maybe even angry. He expected one way or another that Enjolras would excuse himself quickly and run out of his apartment and they would never speak of Grantaire’s sentiment, his _love_ , ever again. He didn’t expect Enjolras’ lips to spread slowly into a blindingly bright smile and for him to whisper, “Yay.”

“Yay?”

“Yayyyy.”

“ _What_?” Grantaire asked, intensely confused. He must have missed something because it made no sense that Enjolras was now leaning over the counter and kissing him, hand tugging him close by his collar.

“What?” Grantaire asked again once he was able to somehow extract his lips from Enjolras’ (the fucker was just as good at kissing as he was at everything else he did). “You… like me?” Enjolras laughed and nodded.

“That I do.” He said happily before kissing Grantaire once more, long and slow. “I’m really glad I waited to look at the book.” Grantaire hummed in agreement.

“Yes, consent is good.”

“Yes, and by the way, I totally consent.” Enjolras whispered before kissing Grantaire again, a little deeper this time, which Grantaire hadn’t thought to be possible.

“Yayyy.”


End file.
